


Red Ribbon Paper Company

by Green_Riot



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Satire, The Office
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29689533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Riot/pseuds/Green_Riot
Summary: Absolutely no one asked, but here it is anyway: What if The Office starred the cast of DBZ?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Caulifla/Kale (Dragon Ball), Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. Another Day at the Office

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bardocksheadband for entertaining my weird ideas for this story. I've tried my best to keep the DBZ gang in character (instead of them just morphing into their Office counterparts), but all of the central events I've planned so far are inspired by actual Office plots.

“Red Ribbon Paper Company, this is Chichi.” The raven-haired receptionist’s brow furrowed as she listened to the person on the other end of the conversation. Goku Son, a salesman who sat at the cluster of desks closest to reception, thought that no one noticed he watched her, and he wondered what she was hearing that had her looking so confused.

The gruff voice of the salesman who worked at the desk adjacent to Goku’s pulled his attention away from his attractive coworker. “For God’s sake, Kakarot,” he sneered. “Perhaps you could surpass my sales if you didn’t spend all damn day ogling the receptionist.”

Busted. Goku grinned sheepishly, but his smile quickly turned taunting. “I dunno, Vegeta. If I took this job half as seriously as you do, you’d have no chance of keeping up with me.”

Vegeta’s face turned red in anger, but the phone in front of him rang before he had a chance to give him a piece of his mind.

“This is Vegeta.”

 _“Hey, it’s me, your best bud.”_ Vegeta’s teeth clenched together at the familiar annoying voice on the other line.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he replied drily.

_“Vegetaaaa… It’s me, Nappa.”_

Reclining back in his chair, Vegeta hummed, continuing the pretense of ignorance.

 _“We work together!”_ Nappa sounded as though he might genuinely cry. _“Your boss? Nappa??”_

Vegeta snapped his fingers as he leaned forward. “Oh, Nappa. I wondered why you weren’t here yet. It’s nearly 9:30.”

There was a pause on the other line. _“So here’s the deal, Vegeta. I need you to come to my condo and pick me up.”_

“No chance in hell,” Vegeta spat. “I have shit to do.” With a pointed glance at Goku, who was already back to making eyes at Chichi, he added, “Some of us actually work around here.”  
_“Vegeta, I’m gonna level with you. I have suffered a terrible injury.”_

“Injury?” His interest was piqued.

_“I busted up my foot. I can’t walk without crutches, let alone drive.”_

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Be ready to go by the time I arrive.”

Goku’s dopey gaze finally left the receptionist as Vegeta stood up to retrieve his jacket. “Where you goin’?”

“Nappa needs a ride, and he naturally chose to impose on the Assistant Regional Manager.”

“I thought you were the Assistant _to_ the Regional Manager?”

“Tch.” Vegeta chose to ignore the idiot’s correction. The sooner he dealt with Nappa, the sooner he could get back to work.

\-------

An hour later, the front door crashed against the wall, startling Chichi as Nappa dragged himself in on crutches better suited for someone who wasn’t nearly seven feet tall. The injured foot was heavily bandaged as he hobbled on his good leg. He groaned pitifully with every step forward, drawing the attention of the entire office, followed by Vegeta, who somehow managed to look more annoyed than usual.

“Oh my god!” Chichi rushed to take his coat, her dark eyes wide with concern. “Nappa what happened?”

Her question was met with more melodramatic groans as the branch manager flopped into one of the chairs next to the reception desk. The wood groaned under the weight of the bald giant as he haphazardly tossed the crutches onto the floor. Chichi picked up one while Goku rushed to help with the other. 

Vegeta stalked back to his desk as a small crowd gathered around their overly dramatic leader. “Go on, Nappa,” he prompted. “Why don’t you relay to everyone the nature of your injury?”

“It was terrible,” Nappa sobbed. “I burnt the skin right off it.”

Chichi and Goku exchanged confused looks, while Bulma, the head accountant, looked toward Vegeta for answers. His dark, unamused gaze remained firmly on Nappa.

“You burned your foot?” asked Piccolo, a tall accountant from Namek. “How does that even happen?”

Nappa closed his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. “I like to wake up to the smell of fresh bacon,” he answered, unhelpfully.

“And?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. “Every night, I put a few pieces of bacon on the Mr. Satan portable grill I keep on the floor by my bed. When my first alarm goes off, I turn on the grill. By the time my second alarm goes off, the whole condo smells like warm bacon.”

“That sounds delicious.” Goku nodded in understanding.

Chichi rolled her eyes. “And today…?”

Nappa flailed his arms wildly. “Whaddya think happened today?? I burned my foot as I was getting out of bed.”

“Wait,” Jaco, the office temp, held up a hand. “So you didn’t _burn_ your foot so much as you _cooked_ it?”

Several bystanders snickered.

“No!” Nappa cried. “I _burned_ my foot, Jaco! It’s a burn!”

Jaco didn’t let it go. “I dunno. You burned it on a grill, so I think that technically counts as ‘cooking.’”

Nappa furiously hauled himself to his feet. “That’s it, everyone. Conference room! Five minutes!”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. _Great. Another waste of company time._

The group trickled into the conference room, all watched by their pouting manager. Roshi, whose job title no one really knew and who everyone assumed was approximately four hundred years old, was already in the conference room and seemed startled when the lights were turned on. Tien’s attention was laser-focused on the book of crossword puzzles that accompanied him to every pointless meeting. Vegeta sat in the front row near the door, two seats away from Bulma who was pissed at the prospect of having to work over the weekend to make up for the time they would be losing. Goku slid into a seat next to Chichi, and they laughed quietly (or so they thought) at the boss’s misfortune. Yajirobe, the heavy, dull man whom no one understood how he had managed to become an accountant followed closely behind Yamcha who, as usual, wouldn’t shut up about playing baseball at an Ivy League school no one cared about. The latter plopped into one of the chairs between Bulma and Vegeta and attempted to drape an arm around her shoulder, only to be frozen by the icy look she shot his way. The salesman on the other side of Yamcha relaxed imperceptibly as he withdrew his arm.

Krillin, the soft-spoken Human Resources representative, approached Nappa plaintively, several inches shorter than the giant manager even when he was slumped over in a chair. “I’m not sure that this is a very good use of company time,” he said quietly.

“It’s not a waste of time!” Nappa snapped angrily. “And no one wants you here anyway, Krillin. You’re an embarrassment to bald men everywhere. Amirite, Tien?” 

When Tien pretended not to hear him, he called out to the next bald person he saw. “Piccolo?”

“I’d rather not get involved.”

With a dejected sigh, Krillin took a seat in the second row.

When the stragglers had been seated, Nappa cleared his throat. The group continued to chatter amongst themselves, so he tried again. Still no luck. 

“Alright, gang. Quiet down,” he shouted over the babbling. “I’m sure you all are wondering why I called you in here.”

“Is it so you can whine about your cooked foot?” Bulma asked with a single blue eyebrow raised. Two seats over, Vegeta quickly suppressed a chuckle.

“It’s NOT cooked,” Nappa insisted. “When’s the last time you lot had any sensitivity training?”

Krillin raised his hand. “You cancelled the sensitivity training corporate asked us to hold in January. You said that diversity and inclusion are dumb.”

“Shut up, Krillin. Nobody likes you,” Nappa snapped before addressing the rest of the group. “A valued member of our team recently suffered a terrible accident, and w-”

“Oh my goodness!” Goku interjected, eyes wide as saucers. “There was an accident?!”

Nappa threw his hands up in frustration. “Goku. My foot!”

Goku looked to Chichi and back to the boss in confusion. “I thought you put the Mr. Satan grill by your bed on purpose.”

A vein on top of Nappa’s head threatened to burst. “Well, yeah. I put it there, but I-”

“C’mon, guys,” Yamcha laughed. “He made an honest mistake and confused his foot for bacon.”

“I did not think my foot was bacon!” Nappa shouted indignantly. He took a deep breath and continued in a calm, steady voice. “Let’s start over.”

A few confused glances were exchanged as he looked at each worker’s face in turn.

“Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Professor Charles Xavier. Helen Keller. What do these amazing courageous people have in common?”

“Ooh!” Goku’s hand shot up. “They’re amazing and courageous?”

“They didn’t cook their own feet?” Tien offered without looking up from his crossword.

“No!” Nappa cried. “They couldn’t walk!”

Chichi looked around incredulously. “Um, Helen Keller was blind and deaf, but she could walk. And Professor X is fictional.”

Nappa looked to Vegeta. “Helen Keller could walk?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and nodded once.

“Okay, scratch Helen Keller… Rosa Parks.”

“Rosa Parks was _not_ disabled,” growled Bulma.

Nappa shook his head violently. “Yes, she was. She couldn’t stand.”

Chaos engulfed the conference room as everyone began expressing their opinions at once.

When some semblance of order was reestablished, Nappa pressed forward. “There was a whole thing with the bus. She couldn’t stand up and… and it was bad.”

“You’re a moron,” Bulma said bluntly. “Rosa Parks was able to stand, she just chose to stay seated for her principles.”

“What principles?”

Yamcha spoke up next. “She sat down even though Black people were supposed to stand up on the bus so white people could sit.”

An offended scoff left Nappa. “That is just plain racist.”

“He’s not saying that Black people _should_ have to sit at the back of the bus. He’s just saying that that’s how it was when R-”

With exaggerated effort, Nappa hauled himself onto his good foot. “You’re a bunch of racists! Get back to work -- this meeting’s over.”

Finally dismissed, Goku wandered back over to his work station, ready to make a few calls and call it a day. He accidentally bumped the desk as he sat down, causing his jar of pens to tip over onto Vegeta’s area, currently vacant. In his haste to retrieve the pens, he knocked Vegeta’s phone off its hook and was surprised, while returning it to its rightful place, at how heavy the receiver felt in his hand. With slight effort, he pulled the receiver open, and found it filled with change.

“That’s weird.” The phone wasn’t terribly heavy, but Goku decided to do his coworker a favor by dumping the coins into the top drawer before heading back to his own desk.

Goku thought nothing of his random act of kindness as Vegeta returned to his desk until a few minutes later when the phone rang. He jumped as Vegeta picked up the phone with so much force that it hit him in the forehead, causing him to spring out of his seat cursing.

“What the fuck did you do, Kakarot?!” he demanded, sure that the oaf was somehow behind this.

Goku raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean any harm, Vegeta. I noticed your phone was heavy, so I took all the change out of it.”

“You moron!” A red welt was growing on one side of Vegeta’s prominent widow’s peak. “I had those there for a reason! I’m training, you imbecile.”

By the time he had calmed down enough to pick up the phone again, the caller had hung up. Goku shrugged.

“So you were sneaking in some strength training while taking calls? How smart.”

“Tch. Don’t talk to me.”

Goku was about to protest when Kale, a quiet, timid saleswoman approached the two of them. “Um, hey guys,” she said, eyes averted, like usual, as if it would physically pain her to make eye contact. “I’m just trying to make sure everyone gets a Save-the-Date for my wedding.”

“You set a date?” Goku asked excitedly as he snatched the card from her hand. “Congrats!”

Kale blushed as Vegeta reluctantly took the card she held out for him and hurried off to deliver one to Chichi. 

After making two sales calls, Goku stood to stretch his legs, coincidentally wandering over to reception. Chichi smiled as he approached, relieved to have a break from pretending not to play solitaire. Their joking around was interrupted by their boss’s booming yell.

“Jaco!” When the temp did not make it to his office as fast as he would have liked, he shouted again. “JACO!”

“For Christ’s sake, someone go to the annex and get the temp for him,” grumbled Vegeta.

Chichi called Jaco’s extension to relay his summons to him, and she and Goku laughed at his dejected walk as he entered Nappa’s office, which was close enough for the two to listen in on the conversation.

“Jaco, I need you to go to the gas station on Shenron Boulevard. Pick me up a caramel cappuccino. If they don’t have caramel, get mocha.” As Jaco was halfway out the door, he changed his mind. “Actually, get me pumpkin spice. Then caramel if they don’t have that. Mocha if they don’t have either. If they only have butterscotch, try the shop on Kami Street.”

“Why can’t I just get coffee from downstairs?” Jaco whined.

“The gas station on Shenron Boulevard has the best cappuccino!” Nappa insisted. “I burned my foot, I’m in a lot of pain. The least you could do is help a guy out and get him the kind of cappuccino he likes!”

As annoyed as he was to be sent across town for coffee, running the errand would kill some time on the clock, so Jaco begrudgingly went after the cappuccino.

“Chichi!” The receptionist rolled her eyes as she heard the boss call her name.

“Yes?” she yelled back.

“Chichi, I need you to come here!”

“What do you need, Nappa?”

“For the love of God, just come in here!”

Goku laughed at the annoyed look she gave him as she pushed her chair back and strode over to Nappa’s small office.

“I need you to take notes for me,” he said once she was in front of his desk.

“Can’t you just type them?” she asked in vexation. 

“No, I can’t, Chichi! I _burned_ my _foot,_ in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I don’t see what that has to d-”

“It hurts, Chichi! Have you ever tried to type with a burnt foot?”

“Well, I came to work last year when I broke my ankle…”

“That’s completely different!”

Goku smirked from the doorway. “You should help him.”

She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“He did burn his foot.”

Chichi growled as she flung herself into the chair across from Nappa’s desk. “Alright, what do you want me to write?”

“I’m just gonna start throwing out some ideas for my screenplay.”

“Screenplay?!” she screeched. “You want me to ignore the phones so that I can take notes on your stupid screenplay?!”

Nappa looked hurt. “It’s not stupid. _Nappa Scarn: Threat Level Super Saiyan_ is gonna be HUGE!”

“Ugh!” Chichi stormed back to her desk, ignoring his repeated entreaties for her to come back. Jaco returned just as she was settling into her seat.

“And you --” she pointed at the wild-haired salesman who had followed her back to her desk. “How dare you encourage his nonsense?”

“Come on, Chi. It’s all in good fun.”

It was hard to stay angry at the puppy-like grin on his face.

“This isn’t pumpkin spice,” they heard Nappa whine from his office.

“Well, as it turns out, they don’t sell pumpkin spice cappuccinos in March,” the temp explained calmly.

“Did you check the shop on Kami Street?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that no one is going to have pumpkin spice. Again, it is March.”

Nappa sighed. “Would ya mind running over there to check? I’ll drink the caramel in the meantime.” Before Jaco could make it out the door, he shouted after him. “And get me a chocolate pudding. They have good chocolate pudding.”

After Jaco left for the second time, the sounds of sad music about people being hurt could be heard from within the manager’s office, prompting eyerolls from everyone working in the vicinity. Every few minutes, Nappa would call for a random employee to come do some asinine task that was either unnecessary or that he was perfectly capable of handling himself, even with a burnt/cooked foot.

Reclining back in his chair with his arms crossed, Goku, feeling guilty for causing Vegeta to injure himself, silently brainstormed ways to make it up to his surly coworker. He had never considered on-the-clock training for himself, but Vegeta sure was smart to find ways to challenge himself during the workday. It was no wonder that he kept showing such improvement when they practiced mixed martial arts together on the weekends. 

A lightbulb went off in his head as it dawned on him that non-strength training could be just as useful to his friend. One area that he knew Vegeta was attempting to improve on was flexibility. A plan began to form in his head.

Over half an hour passed before Jaco slunk back into the office, empty-handed. Chichi watched with a bemused smile as the small man pressed his back against the door with his eyes closed, clearly dreading the inevitable conversation with his manager. Opening his eyes, he caught several other coworkers’ eyes on him and knew that he couldn’t put it off forever. He raised his chin and attempted to stroll nonchalantly back to his desk in the annex, but he was only able to make it around ten feet before Nappa’s booming voice called out for him.

“Didja get it, Jaco?”

He winced as he turned toward Nappa’s open office door.

“Well… It turns out that I was right and they didn’t have pumpkin spice. Because it is March. Also, when I asked about the pudding, the cashier looked at me like I was some kind of alien and told me that they have never sold pudding of any flavor.”

“Oh!” Nappa slapped a massive hand against his shiny bald forehead. “Right! It’s the gas station on Shenron Boulevard that sells the pudding.” 

He laughed loudly at his mistake. “Would you mind…” He trailed off when he realized that the temp was no longer anywhere in sight.

At 12:30 on the dot, Vegeta stood to take his lunch break. Goku waited until he was out of sight to enact his plan, tackling the most difficult part first. He glanced toward the break room that Vegeta had disappeared into one last time before he flipped his coworker’s rolling chair upside down, brow furrowed in concentration as he fiddled with the wheels.

Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he moved the chair back into its upright position and studied the items on Vegeta’s desk for a moment before carefully moving a few select items as far away from the center of the desk as he felt he could get away with. Satisfied with his work, he strode over to reception to find out whether Chichi was ready to take her lunch break.

“What was all that about?” she whispered as he approached, nodding toward Vegeta’s desk.

Goku smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his spiky hair. “Oh, that? I was just trying to help Vegeta out after I took all of the coins out of his phone this morning.”

The blank stare he received from the receptionist prompted him to continue.

“It turns out that you can do teeny, tiny exercises throughout the workday to help you train. I’m trying to help Vegeta work on his flexibility. Tomorrow, I’m gonna help give him a cardio workout!”

Chichi still didn’t quite understand the reasoning, but she smiled at Goku’s enthusiasm. “Need any help?”

He considered her offer for a moment before nodding in agreement. “I think I can find something for you to do. Are you going on break soon?”

She nodded with a radiant smile as she followed him toward the breakroom. The only two people currently occupying the space were Vegeta and Bulma, the latter of whom seemed annoyed as they sat at different tables. Vegeta didn’t spare the incoming pair a second glance as he abruptly made his way back to his desk. Chichi and Bulma made idle chitchat for barely a minute before she also declared that she needed to return to her workstation. Expense reports were due at the end of the week, and she would have to correct Yajirobe’s work in addition to finishing her own.

When they were alone, Chichi leaned in conspiratorially and whispered. “So what’s the plan?”

Mirroring her posture, he leaned closer to her, and her heart skipped at how close his eyes were to hers. He had just opened his mouth to respond when they heard groans and the _click-clack_ of crutches. They pulled away from each other quickly as Nappa hobbled in pathetically and collapsed into a chair across from them.

The tall man glared at Chichi. “I tried calling for you.”

“Um…” She looked to Goku, who only shrugged. “I’m on my lunch break. What do you need?”

“I need lunch,” he stated as though it were obvious.

Chichi was a kind, nurturing soul, but patience was not her forte and this job tested her daily. She took a deep breath before making her reply. “I was unaware of that. Would you like me to order delivery?”

“Uh, no, I want to starve. Of course I want delivery!” Nappa snapped.

Goku gave her an apologetic look as she rolled her eyes and put away her own unfinished lunch. When they were alone, Nappa leaned across the table and whispered.

“So whaddya think?” The bald man smirked. “When ya gonna make a move on her and touch her chichis?”

A furious blush swept across Goku’s features as he hastily excused himself, not pausing to listen to any more of his boss’s crude remarks. He quickly ducked into the men’s room to relieve himself before heading back to his computer.

No sooner than he had unzipped, Goku heard an object scrape across the exterior portion of the door three times before Nappa was able to push it open with one crutch and lumber into a stall. After some banging and much cursing and, finally, the manager crying out as he toppled to the floor, Goku decided to make his retreat.

“Goku,” Nappa groaned.

The salesman’s gaze flew from the sink to the door and back again before he ran out the restroom, pausing in the small kitchen area to wash his hands on his way back to his desk as Nappa desperately called after him. As he was drying his hands, he watched Krillin stare at the ceiling in front of the bathroom door for several seconds before pushing the door open and calling out.

“What do you need Nappa?”

“Fuck off, you nose-less half-pint! I need someone who’s tall enough to help me off the ground.”

Goku ran back to his desk, suddenly very interested in working on a spreadsheet he had been procrastinating on.

Fifteen minutes passed before Nappa hobbled back into the sales area, and Goku, who had unexpectedly morphed into a diligent worker, kept his eyes fastened to the screen in front of him despite being keenly aware of the glare Nappa leveled at him. 

He jumped as Nappa’s voice thundered. “JACO!”

A faintly audible groan came from the annex, but the temp soon followed Nappa into his office for whatever new inconvenience would be bestowed upon him.

Nappa regarded him carefully, hands clasped against his mouth. “I’m gonna need you to get me that pudding.”

“Seriously?” Jaco whined.

“I have had the _worst_ day,” Nappa’s voice was rising, and Jaco promptly shut his mouth. The Red Ribbon Paper Company West City branch manager may be incompetent and juvenile, but he was also downright terrifying when truly angry. “I burned my foot, and I get no sympathy from anyone. I fell onto the bathroom floor -- Roshi uses that bathroom! You wanna look me in the eye and guarantee that _Roshi_ has good aim??”

When no response was given, he continued.

“The only thing that can possibly salvage this shitshow of a day is my favorite chocolate pudding from my favorite gas station in the city. NOW GO!”

Jaco hightailed it out of the office without further question, passing the teenager bringing Chinese delivery to Nappa as he exited the elevator.

Upstairs, Vegeta swore while reaching for a pen. He hadn’t noticed that the jar he kept pens in was out of arms’ reach until the wheels on his chair decided to stop functioning. Normally perfectly comfortable with his height, he cursed the short arms that came along with his short stature. His fingers finally clasped around a pen, and he smirked triumphantly, only to find it out of ink. Incensed beyond reasoning, he failed to notice the self-satisfied smile on his neighbor’s face.

\-------

“Oh-kay.” Jaco sat the gas station pudding on Nappa’s desk, placing a plastic spoon on top of it. “One chocolate pudding, fresh outta the gas station on Shenron Boulevard… What’s wrong?”

The contemplative expression his manager wore as he regarded him was freaking Jaco out.

Nappa released a heavy sigh. “Well, I just don’t feel all that hungry. My lunch came right after you left.”

Jaco attempted to keep his face neutral, even if he was surely dangerously close to having an aneurysm.

“Could you put it in the fridge for later?”

Keeping his lips tightly sealed, Jaco managed a strained “mhmm” as he scooped up the container from the desk. He had barely made it to the door when an enormous, rumbling belch sounded from behind him.

“Actually,” said Nappa. “I’ll go ahead and have it now.”

The temp complied with his request and shuffled back to his station. Only two and half hours until he could go home. 

A few minutes after three o’clock, Nappa came out of his office, arms spread wide and crutches nowhere in sight. 

“You guys!” he cried excitedly, circling around the cluster of desks where Goku, Vegeta, and Yamcha sat. “It’s a miracle.”

He waited for someone to say something, but the office was silent.

“I think,” Nappa continued, “that your love and devotion to the world’s best boss has overcome this gruesome injury. I feel great!”

Chichi rolled her eyes as her attention returned to Minesweeper, vaguely aware of Jaco as he made use of the copier next to the reception desk.

“Jaco!” The temp flinched as Nappa strode over to him and threw an arm around his shoulders. “I think that the pudding you brought me has healing properties. That’s why I want to thank-”

Jaco’s ears perked up. Nappa never thanked anyone.

“-the gas station on Shenron’s Boulevard. I need you to hop online and type up a glowing review ASAP.”

He patted him once on the back before making his way back to his office whistling.

“Seriously?” Chichi groaned. “He thinks he was healed by _pudding?_ I think he just got tired of pretending to be an invalid once everyone stopped paying attention.”

Jaco laughed nervously. “Well… it’s funny you should mention it. You see…” He looked around as he leaned over the counter above her desk. “The pudding _kind of_ healed him. I crushed up some baby aspirin and mixed it in. I have to do it for my dog all the time.”


	2. The Ribbee Awards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nappa hosts the office's annual awards ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bardocksheadband for finding the time to read over this. She's been writing up a storm, so be sure to check out the great stories she's posted!

Goku yawned, questioning his life decisions as he waited impatiently. His typical morning routine involved getting ready at the last possible minute available to arrive at the office at nine o’clock on the dot, but his plans to help Vegeta with his training necessitated a much earlier arrival than he was accustomed to. 

Unsure of exactly how early his coworker arrived most mornings, he decided to arrive at 8:30. So far, the parking lot was empty other than Bulma’s mint green sedan, which was parked one spot closer to the parking lot entrance than his own car. Goku had known Bulma since childhood, and she was without a doubt the only person in the entire office whose work ethic rivaled Vegeta’s.

The clock on Goku’s dash displayed 8:41 as Vegeta pulled into the parking spot on the other side of Bulma’s car. A grin split his face as he reached for the door handle but was quickly replaced with confusion as the passenger side of Vegeta’s car swung open. Bulma brushed out the wrinkles in her perfectly tailored pantsuit as the driver made his way over to her, both oblivious to the fact that they were being observed as Vegeta wound his arms around her waist and brought his forehead to hers. Words that Goku was too far away to hear were exchanged, and Vegeta said something that made Bulma laugh before he planted a soft kiss on her mout8h and released her. They were walking hand-in-hand toward the building when the sound of Goku’s car door closing stopped them in their tracks.

“Kakarot!” Vegeta sprang away from Bulma as though she were a poisonous snake. “What the hell got you here on time for once?!”

Goku’s sly smile widened. “I could ask you both the same thing.”

“We were--It’s not that-”

“Vegeta,” Bulma interrupted with a sigh. “We’re busted.”

She turned to Goku with pleading eyes. “Please don’t say anything, Goku. We don’t want everyone getting involved in our business. You can understand that, right?”

Goku considered her words. “I don’t really understand. Everyone’d be happy for both of you… but I won’t tell anyone.” _Except Chichi._

She threw her arms around his neck and thanked him profusely. Over the top of her head, Goku made eye contact with a glaring Vegeta. The three walked into the building together in awkward silence broken only by the ding of the elevator as it opened before them. Bulma entered first, and Goku rushed to enter next, slamming the button to close the door before Vegeta had a chance to enter.

“What the hell?!” Bulma demanded as he pressed the button for the third floor. 

The string of profanities hurled toward Goku from the other side of the elevator door grew quieter as they made their ascent. As the doors slid apart, Goku turned to Bulma with an unusually serious expression. “I’m trying to pay him back for something that happened yesterday.”

She exited the elevator with a puzzled expression, but he didn’t move to follow her. He stood barely inside the lift and raised an arm every time the doors began to close, preventing it from leaving the floor until, across the hall, the door to the stairwell slammed into the wall. The one-of-a-kind hairdo resembling a flame, currently sporting more stray strands of hair than usual, emerged, followed by a livid salesman who instantly zeroed in on where Goku was stationed in the elevator.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Kakarot?!” he spat. “I have half a mind to-”

Goku interrupted him excitedly. “You’re welcome, bud.”

He patted him on the back as he strode into the office, happy to help with his on-the-clock training regiment.

Other members of the Red Ribbon Paper Company team filtered in one-by-one, and Goku’s eyes lit up as Chichi hung her jacket on the coat rack by her desk. She had barely had time to start her computer when Goku appeared before her.

He looked around before addressing her quietly. “Boy, do I have a story for you.”

Her eyes widened at the prospect of some Friday morning gossip. “What?! What happened??”

It may have been a pathetic thing to get excited by, but Chichi lived for her and Goku’s dirt sessions. He held a finger to his lips, and she pouted slightly but lowered her voice nonetheless.

“Oh my god, Goku. Just tell me what it is already!”

“So I got here early this morning to help Vegeta with a thing, and when he got here-”

Goku’s story was interrupted by the manager’s entrance.

“Alright, folks! Today’s the big day!!”

Chichi rolled her eyes, as did several other office workers.

“Well?” Nappa held both arms out eagerly waiting for a response that was never going to come.

“The Ribbee Awards!”

He was again met with silence.

“Oh, come on! You guys aren’t excited to win some Ribbees?”

Chichi offered a sarcastic “yay” that Nappa took as affirmation.

“That’s exactly the kind of enthusiasm we need, Chichi. Meet me in the conference room in ten minutes.”

As he strode into his office, Chichi’s head collapsed onto her keyboard. “Not again…”

For each of the four years of her employment in the office, Chichi had been forced to spend the day of the Ribbees alone in the conference room watching hours upon hours of footage from previous years. She would have no choice but to spend the day cringing at Nappa’s off-color jokes and musical numbers. 

“I think this is going to be the day that I kill myself,” she groaned. She suddenly sat upright, pushing her bangs out of her eyes to regard Goku. “You were saying something about Vegeta?”

He shook his head, lips pressed tightly shut. “I think I’m gonna sit on this for a few hours. We’ll call it your reward for if you can make it through the day.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I’ll tell you later, but on one condition.”

She eyed him warily. “What’s that?”

“Sit with me at the Ribbees ceremony.”

Blushing, she looked down at the desk before giving a slight nod and gathering a legal pad and a pen to take half-assed notes that Nappa probably wouldn’t read anyway. “Fine.”

\-------

Days in which Chichi was not at her normal station always caused Goku even more boredom than a normal workday. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over to the reception desk, and each time he was disappointed to see Jaco answering the phones in her place. At one point in the middle of the morning, he spun his chair around to face the conference room. Vegeta rolled his eyes when he noticed the clown staring through the partially opened blinds at her.

By 11:30, he could no longer suppress his desire to talk to her, and he wandered into the conference room and plopped down into the seat next to her. “You look like you could use a break.”

She hummed. “I’ve needed a break since before I got here. What’d you have in mind?”

The mischievous smile on his face gave her the first bit of real excitement she’d had all day.

\-------

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious, Vegeta,” Goku insisted. “I made it all the way around in forty-five seconds flat. I’m pretty sure that it has to be a record.”

“I could beat your time by power-walking.”

“Wanna make a bet?”

Vegeta knew that rising to such baiting was stupid. He had nothing to prove to Kakarot. 

The logical portion of his brain, however, was barely audible over the stubborn pride demanding that he prove his superiority.

“Fine.”

\-------

Vegeta cracked his neck as he jogged in place. With a final glance at Chichi, from whose hand the stopwatch Nappa had purchased for her to time his handstands dangled, he lurched forward.

When he circled back around, panting and with sweat glistening over the ridge of his brow, she offered a small, apologetic smile. “I didn’t know you were starting. By the time I could start the timer, you were already gone.”

His jaw clenched, but he bit his tongue. “Alright, let’s try again.”

She nodded, bringing the stopwatch in front of her determined face. “And… Go!”

This time, he completed his circuit only to find her sheepishly avoiding eye contact.

She took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Vegeta. I thought I pushed start, but I guess I didn’t press it down all the way.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nostrils. He exhaled and inhaled three more times before regarding her again. “Are you ready this time?”

Once more, she set her face into a determined scowl and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

He lowered himself with his left foot forward and waited.

“Aaaaand go!!”

He bolted across the parking lot and around the corner. When he returned, prominent sweat stains by now marring both sides of his shirt, she pressed the button to end the timer. “Forty-six twenty-three.”

Hunched over while he struggled to recompose himself, Vegeta growled. “We’ll try again Monday.”

\-------

Chichi felt oddly nervous in the parking lot of Pepperz, a mediocre, overpriced chain restaurant that Nappa insisted was the classiest place on Earth. As she smoothed her hair for the hundredth time, she wondered again if she should have opted for something other than the same tight, immaculate bun she wore to work everyday. A voice in the back of her head urged her to let her long, dark hair down, but she ignored it; if she didn’t like how it looked once released, it would be impossible to fix it back up without a comb.

Her heart raced in her chest, and she winced at how stupidly she was behaving. It wasn’t a date; it was a mandatory work function. A mandatory work function at which the sweetest, most attractive man she had ever seen had specifically requested her company. Brushing the fears aside, she slammed the visor closed with a bit more force than necessary before snatching her purse from the passenger seat and making her way into the restaurant.

Nappa was in the middle of what appeared to be an attempt at freestyle rap, commentating on everyone in attendance. Chichi made no effort to understand whatever he was saying, her eyes scanning momentarily before landing on Goku. He was sitting at a square table next to Vegeta, who was, by some miracle, scowling more than usual. The smile that lit up his face when he noticed her heading in his direction made her heart skip, and she berated herself once again for setting her expectations for the evening too high as he stood to pull out the chair next to him for her to take a seat.

“Hey there!” he greeted cheerfully. “Glad you could make it!”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “We are required to be here, Kakarot. Of course she made it.”

Goku shrugged as he took his own seat again, and Chichi raised an eyebrow at the three appetizers spread across the table. “I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of starters you prefer, so I ordered a couple options.”

She helped herself to an onion ring while failing to suppress a smile at his generosity. _Not a date._

“Hey, Bulma!” Goku called across the restaurant to the head of accounting who was just entering. “There’s an open seat here!”

Vegeta’s shoulders tensed slightly as she sat down, feeling more than seeing the grin on Goku’s face as a waitress approached to take their drink orders. Chichi watched with interest, having been told all about the parking lot incident over lunch.

“Alllllright!” The clanking of a cowbell directly into the microphone assaulted every pair of ears in the restaurant. “Time to announce which of you losers are tonight’s big winners.”

“I think I’m gonna need a drink,” Bulma groaned.

“Tonight’s first award goes to someone whose sales record pretty much keeps our lights on.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes, ignoring the small bit of pride bubbling up in his chest.

“This little, spikey-haired fella does so much to keep our business afloat, so it’s only fitting that he take home the Ribbee for Best Salesman.”

Vegeta pushed his chair back, grateful for the small blessing of receiving the very first award so that he could spend the rest of the evening sulking in silence.

“Goku, please come on up!”

A smattering of applause sounded, as the Best Salesman trotted forward to claim his prize. Vegeta, who was definitely not bothered by this snub in the slightest, searched desperately for a member of the waitstaff. It looked like tonight was going to be the night he had some alcohol.

Nappa bent down and wrapped the honoree in a too-tight bearhug. When Goku finally managed to wriggle out of his grasp, he was handed a bowling trophy with a red ribbon tied around the base.

“Speech! Speech!” Chichi cried enthusiastically.

Goku’s face scrunched up in thought. “Uh, I guess I’d like to thank my grandpa for teaching me to always believe in myself and follow my dreams. And, um, I guess I’d like to thank my pal Chichi who makes the work day bearable and works a copier like a pro.”

Her face flushed as he made his way back to the table, waving at the audience, looking to all the world as if he had just been crowned Miss America. As he flopped back into his chair, she took the trophy into her hands.

“Do you want me to take your picture?” she teased. “So you can remember the night that your life changed forever?”

His smile faded, and she worried for a second that she had said something wrong until he scooted his chair toward hers.

“I think I would like a picture, actually.”

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders while the other retrieved his phone from his pocket. She held up his trophy as he chose the right angle to capture both of their beaming faces.

“I don’t think this next award will come as a surprise to anyone. I know that I’ve wasted many, many hours enjoying this particular employee’s _assets_.” Nappa wiggled his eyebrows as every woman in his employ attempted to disappear from existence. “That being said, the next award is for the Best Chichis.”

A shriek of disgust tore from Chichi’s mouth. “Seriously?!”

Nappa carried on, unfazed by her outburst. “And the award for Best Chichis goes to… Bulma Briefs!”

It was difficult to tell whether Bulma’s face or Vegeta’s turned the brightest shade of purple. 

“Come get your trophy, Bulma!”

“No.” She shook her head, arms crossed over her prize-winning chest. “I’m not accepting that, and you’ll be hearing from my lawyer if this sexual harassment continues.”

Krillin looked exhausted as he approached the confused manager. “Nappa, we’ve talked about this before. You know that this is inappropriate.”

“Oh really?” said Nappa. He picked up one trophy from the table and hurled it into the nearest trash can. 

“I’ve got an award for you, Krillin.” And with that, he offered the HR rep a single, raised middle finger. Krillin deflated, seeming even smaller than usual as he made his way back to his seat.

“Congratulations, Bulma,” Nappa offered. “The next award goes to Chichi for Best Receptionist.”

Relieved to be awarded something that wasn’t a sexual harassment lawyer’s wet dream, Chichi smiled graciously as she accepted her trophy. 

“Chichi has been answering our phones for years, and I hope she’ll be answering them until she dies.”

Nappa’s words poured over her like ice water, freezing her in her tracks several feet away from her table. Being a receptionist for the rest of her days was a terrifying prospect, but what else was there for her to do?

Goku could sense the shift in mood as Chichi returned to the table. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. 

Vegeta flagged down their server. “I’ll take a rum and coke.”

Bulma gaped at his request. “Your strict diet has room for booze now?”

“Looks that way.”

“But aren’t you worried you won’t be able to train tomorrow?” Goku asked with wide eyes.

“I don’t care.”

Chichi offered the waitress a sad smile. “Could I just get a coke?”

“And our next award goes to Vegeta for Shortest…”

“Very clever,” Vegeta barked as he stomped over to take the trophy.

“... Temper. You really need to work on some anger management techniques, Geets.”

While he was away from the table, the waitress returned with Chichi’s coke and Vegeta’s coke plus rum. Goku whispered to Bulma urgently, just loudly enough for Chichi to hear. “He’s going to be really mad at himself tomorrow if he gets drunk.”

Bulma whispered back. “I don’t want to have to wrestle his car keys from him _tonight_ if he gets wasted.”

Chichi looked back and forth between her and Vegeta’s identical glasses and made a decision. “I have an idea.”

Luckily, Nappa had found it necessary to hold Vegeta’s award up out of arms’ reach while making a lengthy speech. Goku quickly swapped the two drinks while his back was turned.

“Finally.” Vegeta plopped back into his seat, carelessly tossing the trophy, which seemed to depict a man holding a golf club like a cue stick for pool, onto the table in front of him before taking a long drag from his glass.

Chichi made a face as she simultaneously took a sip through her straw.

“This next prize is called the Best Friend Award. As the name implies, this goes to my best friend in the office -- who also happens to be my best friend in the whole world.” Nappa paused, wrestling with the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, before bringing the microphone back to his mouth. “Come on up, Vegeta!”

Across from Chichi, Nappa’s ‘Best Friend’ choked on his soda. Once he managed to clear his air passage, he begrudgingly went forward to retrieve his second award in a row. He snatched the race car trophy out of Nappa’s hand while dodging his attempts to embrace him. As soon as he returned to the table, he swiftly threw back the rest of his drink. Across the table, Chichi’s straw made slurping noises within a mostly empty cup. 

When the server returned, Vegeta held up his empty glass, and Chichi hurried to request a refill as well.

From the front of the room, Nappa had begun the preamble for the next award. “The person who will be taking home this next trophy is without a doubt the hardest-working employee in the whole company.”

Vegeta groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. How many times was Nappa going to test his limited patience in one night?

“You should all keep an _eye_ out, because I’m pretty sure this guy will be sitting in my cushy office one day. The winner of the Busybody Award goes to…”

Vegeta stood up to get it over with.

“...Tien!”

“What?!” Vegeta’s fist hit the table before he remembered that the awards were meaningless. He sat down quickly, glancing around to see if his refill was on its way.

Nappa laughed loudly. “Get it, guys? It’s EYE-ronic because he never does anything.”

All three of Tien’s eyes narrowed as he took the trophy, topped with a small statue of a swimmer, from Nappa’s outstretched hand.

“Sorry, Tien. EYE just couldn’t help myself.”

Nappa was silent for a moment as Tien walked back to the table he was sharing with Roshi and Yamcha, his brow furrowed in obvious concentration until he landed on his next zinger. “Ha! He has three eyes.”

“The next award is th-” Nappa’s voice cut off suddenly after having extended the microphone cable so far that it was unplugged from the amp. “Vegeta!”

Refills were being placed on the table and he attempted to feign deafness, but Nappa’s persistence won out. As Vegeta stalked toward the amp to reattach the mic, Goku swapped his and Chichi’s drinks once more. Already feeling a bit buzzed, she giggled as her mouth missed the straw on her first attempt at taking a sip.

Vegeta returned and immediately removed the straw from his glass before taking a drink. He made a face as he set it back on the coaster. “Pathetic. You can’t even taste the rum, it’s so watered down.”

Chichi laughed a bit too loudly and slapped a hand against her mouth as Nappa continued with the award-giving.

“I present to Yajirobe the award for ‘Least Likely to Starve to Death.’”

Over the next half hour, Vegeta became increasingly irritable, not noticing that a convenient excuse for him to leave the table occurred every time he received a new drink and apparently oblivious to Chichi’s growing inebriation. After he had drained his fourth non-alcoholic soda and flagged down a waiter to bring him another, Goku intervened, nervously eyeing Chichi’s glassy-eyed grin as she swayed in her seat.

“I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

Vegeta scoffed. “This shit is so diluted that I don’t feel drunk in the slightest.”

“Well,” Bulma quickly racked her brain for an excuse. “Sometimes the alcohol doesn’t hit you for an hour or so. You better quit while you’re ahead. I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself when it kicks in.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but he drank so rarely that it was difficult to question her logic.

Meanwhile, each employee except Krillin received an award, some simply mean-spirited (Yamcha’s ‘Bulma Dodged a Bullet Award,’ Roshi’s award for ‘Most Likely to Die in the Office’) while others were malignantly obscene (Piccolo’s ‘Big Dick Energy Award,’ and the award for ‘Most Likely to Star in My Sex Dreams’ award that was given to Kale with a shout-out to her fiancée Caulifla). Jaco hung his head in shame as he accepted the award for ‘Most Likely to Kill Us All in a Fire,’ miserable at being reminded of the day that he set the microwave timer for too long and the building had to be evacuated.

One Whitney Houston song parody and a shockingly eloquent one-man skit later, and the ceremony was finally over. Bulma was the first to leave their table, with Vegeta following suit less than a minute after her. Once he was gone, Chichi collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“I can’t believe he didn’t notice anything,” she wheezed.

Goku smiled at her casual demeanor and offered a pat on the back. “You should probably let me drive you home.”

She attempted to fix him with a serious expression, but the effect was ruined by her inability to keep a straight face. “You act like I’m drunk or somethin’.”

He shook his head in mock disapproval as he pushed his chair away from the table. He offered her a hand, which she pointedly ignored in a bid to prove her sobriety. The room tilted dangerously, but he caught her by the shoulders before she could fall over, prompting another fit of laughter.

“Alright, cowboy.” She wrapped herself around his right arm. “Take me home.”

It took a few tries to find her apartment building, seeing as she was having difficulty offering accurate directions. After having her confirm they were in the correct parking lot for the third time, he helped her make her way to her third-floor apartment. When her key repeatedly missed the lock, he worried that there might be a terrified family on the other side wondering why she was attempting to break in. As it were, she eventually managed to unlock the door and fling it open.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked from outside while she stumbled toward a floral loveseat. 

“Mmhmm… C’mere.” She patted the cushion next to her.

Goku scratched the back of his neck nervously as he stepped into her small abode, carefully closing the door behind him. “You feeling alright?”

He took the seat she offered him and was alarmed by how quickly she maneuvered her body so that she was straddling his lap. Her finger reached out to boop him on the nose, but she missed, jabbing him in the cheekbone instead. The alcohol on her breath wafted over him as she laughed.

“You’re so cute,” she slurred. “Didja really mean what you said? About me makin’ work bearable?”

He nodded, brushing away the stray hairs that had fallen from her bun. “Yeah, you’re pretty much the reason I come in every day… That and the fact that I need to pay my bills.”

She pulled back slightly to gaze into his eyes before lunging forward to kiss him. His eyes widened in surprise. He’d pictured this scenario many times before, but it didn’t feel right. Not like this.

“I think you should let me get up,” he said quietly.

With deliberate effort, she climbed onto her feet, wrapping her arms around his neck as he stood. 

“Let’s get you to bed.”

Face flushed, she took his hand and pulled him along with her to the bedroom. He stopped her as she reached for the hem of her shirt. 

“This is a bad idea, Chi.”

The hurt in her eyes pained him. “You don’t want me?”

“No, I do.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I really, really do. But I don’t want you to regret it. So I want you to go to sleep for now. If you still want to do this tomorrow, we can.”

“Really?”

“On one condition: You have to go to dinner with me first.”

She nodded her head enthusiastically, and he helped her get situated under the comforter. 

“It’s a date then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to deal with casting a Roy counterpart, so Goku and Chichi's road to a relationship will be much smoother than Jim and Pam's.
> 
> I'm going to start working this week on a story for Shenron's Dungeon's St. Patrick's Day event, so it will likely be a little while before I update this story. The next installment will feature a wedding, so, hopefully it won't take me too long to get back to it!


End file.
